Roundabout
by DarkNightFlame
Summary: He isn't quite sure what his brother means. He's not quite sure what any of this means. Why is he going along with this? Why is Raphael doing this? He should resist. But he can't because it's all he's ever wanted. - Warning: Tcest, consensual rape, lemon


**Pairing: **Raph/Don  
**Rating: **NC-17/18  
**Warning: **TurtleCest

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**Roundabout**

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Donatello isn't _exactly_sure when it started. The feelings. The feelings that make him want to run and hide in complete and utter shame. The feelings that make him lower his gaze each time they talk. The feelings that make him cry. Every once in a while. But not often because he's suppose to be strong.

He remembers when it got to much and he told Raphael. And his brother said nothing, just gave him this _look_and Donatello knew that it was over before it began. And he thought that that look was something like disgust. And he though he deserved it.

And he knows that Raphael hates him.

Until this night. He is standing in his lab, looking for papers of research on his most recent project when _he_comes in.

Donatello can feel the hands slipping over his plastron, caressing his neck, rubbing against his collar bone. _His_ fingers are against his face, smoothing the tips over his lips.  
He tilts his head, eyes half shut.

"Open your mouth."

He obeys, and his face is pulled towards _his_. He can feel _his_tongue slipping inside his mouth, rubbing his tongue, playing with it, claiming every inch. He lets him, a soft, pitched whimper escaping his throat. He can feel the flush against his skin, something is stirring in his stomach.

He should say something, anything. He should resist. But he can't because it's all he's ever wanted.

He braces himself against the counter, his free arm tangled with his brother's fingers. He grips the hand tighter.

Raphael pulls back ever so slightly. His voice and face look heavy with lust, "Such a good boy…."

Donatello gasps and his brother's knee is pushed between his legs. He can feel his own knees go week and he slumps, his head against Raphael's shoulder. He whimpers again and Raphael wraps his arms around him.

"Go take a shower…" Somehow, Raphael makes even this sound lustful, sensual. With shaky steps, Donatello stumbles from his brother's grasp, nearly falling into the bathroom.

He turns on the water, the cold tap, and strips off his gear. It's now soaked and he throws it to the floor.

He can still feel the heat in his stomach, the flush against his skin and he turns the tap on harder, bracing his hands against the wall. He lowers his head, breathing heavily.

He doesn't know what's going on. He thought Raphael hated him. Was he truly that cruel?

He hears the door open and the shower is opened. He can feel the body heat of his brother as he steps behind him. His pulse races as strong, thick arms are wrapped around him and he's pulled against his body.

"Taking a cold shower?" Raph all but purrs in his ear and Donatello is drawn to the heat. He pressed closer, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

"You need to _take_ more…Donnie." He isn't quite sure what his brother means. He's not quite sure what any of this means. Why is he going along with this? Why is_ Raphael_doing this?

Raph turns the hot water on.

Steam starts to rise and Raphael starts to stroke Donatello's plastron. Don moans, tilting his head back. He feels exposed, in the shower, with his brother touching and stroking him. Then Raphael's hand slips lower, his hand touching and rubbing his brother's length. Don tenses, trying to pull away.

He doesn't want this. Not like this.

He catches the hand, but he knows his grip is feeble, "_No_…" He tries to push away but Raph captures his mouth with his own, forcing his body closer.

He pulls away from the kiss, "So sensitive…" He's still rubbing and stroking him and Donatello feels as if he can't breathe. The heat is building, and why is Raphael so _damn_good at this?

He whimpers, curling his arm around his brother's where it's holding him in place. His other hand is still on Raphael's, but he can't seem to stop his brother's movement. He curls his hand, his fingers grazing his brother's flesh. He tries to pull away again.

"_No_…" His voice is soft and high, almost a whine but he cannot keep the wanting out, "_Stop it…_" They can't do this. As pathetic as he knows he sounds, he doesn't want this if Raphael doesn't love him. He's mocking him. He hates him.

But Raphael is ignoring him, never forcing him, but Donnie knows his protests are weak, full of need. His hand feels so _good_, callous yet gentle, and the caressing is starting to drive him crazy.

"_Raph_…" He stops, throwing his head forward, a whimper escaping his lips, "_Ah… Raph, I can't…_" He's pleading now, one last, desperate attempt… but it doesn't work. He knows there's no protest in his voice, no real will for his brother to stop.

He lets go of Raphael's hand, starting to gasp and pant, whimpering and writhing in his brother's arms.

"_Come for me Donatello_…" And why does Raph have to speak like that, so domineering, lustful and Donatello lets out high, sweet moan.

He starts to grind against Raphael's hand, rocking his hips and throwing back his head. He's still panting and groaning, his moans are getting higher and faster. Raphael is licking and sucking against his jaw. He breathes into his ear, hot and heavy.

"_Donnie..._"

That's it. Donatello feels as if he can't take it anymore. He cries out, voice strangled and saturated with euphoria, "_Aaah-ah..._"

He's shuddering and trembling and gasping. All the while, he can feel Raphael as he holds him tight, squeezing harder now against his length. His brother is mumbling something in his ear, but he can't make out the words. He only knows that they're on the floor now, the hot water pounding off the top of his head and the back of his neck. He's lying sprawled, half on the warm tiles, half against his brother, whose free arm is still wrapped against him, strong, thick and warm, forcing him closer to his body.

Donatello shudders, collapsing back completely. He's gasping and that high is starting to fade, but the burning in his stomach is still there. He think he feels sick. He thinks he feels sick because he knows he's always wanted this.

"_Good boy Donnie_…" Raphael is standing up, propping him against the wall and Donatello lets him.

Raph smirks and Donatello can't help but think he looks so damn hot where he's standing, his mask a dark, _dark_red color now, dripping more water onto the floor.

Then he leaves without a word. Donatello leans his head back and closes his eyes.

***0***

"Does it strengthen you, being lanced?"

"What?" Raphael looks confused and for a moment, just a moment, Donatello regrets saying anything. Then he sighs, "Do you think if would make you stronger."

Donatello is still sitting at the edge of his bed, head almost bowed and Raphael is still standing in the doorway. He's put his gear back on, Donatello notes, unlike me. But he has more important things to deal with.

"Lanced…that's a medical thing, when yer cut open…" Raphael hesitates, "Why ya askin that?"

"I want to know."

Raphael shrugs, but he seems to have clicked that something else is going on.  
"Maybe. You would know Donnie. What do you think?"

Donatello says nothing for a long moment, then he sighs, "I think it would hurt, either way. Maybe you'd get stronger…pain always makes you stronger."

He can feel a lump in his throat and he stops talking, but it's too late. Raphael is looking him with something like concern, but it's hard to tell with him, "Donnie, ya cryin'?"

Donatello is biting his lip. He says nothing. He doesn't trust his voice. If he speaks too soon, it may just crack and break and shatter into a million little pieces and then he'd have to search for them in this darkness, with no way to call for help.

He wonders where that thought came from.

Raph seems persistent, "Don?"

He takes a deep, long breath, swallows hard and whispers a quiet, almost nonexistent, no.

"Bullshit." Raphael is next to him now, he hears the bed creak as he sits down, feels his weight pressing the mattress down

Donatello laughs, but the sound it bitter, hard, "Yes…That's exactly what this is. Bullshit."

And he laughs again, because he knows that Raphael hates him.

***0***

~ FIN

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**I like Raph very much, and Don's perceptions of him might not always reflect that. This was not rape, and Don's assumptions that Raph hates him, are not the truth.**


End file.
